Masters of Dragons and Death (Respectively)
by cleveradjective
Summary: Harry, the Master of Death, is sent back in time to help events fall accordingly. He lives through the moment man was created until the day man dies, over and over again, to help where he is needed and make the world world. One of his more interesting experiences is when he spends some time in Camelot, almost gets executed, and then lives there for decades. MoD!Harry


There was to be an execution.

A man, accused of sorcery, but who never fought when the guards spat in his face and brought him down to the dungeons. Not a word had passed his lips when he was debased and beaten in front of the people when first apprehended.

Even so, a few knights (or, at least, according to Arthur) thought that the boy - looking barely Merlin's age - could stare into their soul with old, knowing eyes. Arthur found this to be a load of tosh, but Merlin thought it to be interesting. Intriguing. He'd planned to meet the sorcerer, before his execution date, but he never got the time between fetching things for Arthur and helping Gaius with the medicines.

The execution was dismal, when the date rolled around. People gathered in the square, watching. Waiting for a young boy to be dragged out and slaughtered before them. They waited to see the dismay and the pain in the boy's eyes. It never came. The boy walked out, his arms in the hold of two larger knights, but he still held his head high, though his eyes were downcast and head concealed by the hood of a cloak, one billowing after him. It was emerald green in colour, and when the boy did look up, Merlin found that it matched his eyes.

King Uther spoke first, breaking the deafening silence that had rung through the court as soon as the boy had walked in. One of the knights kicked the back of his knee to make him fall to the ground, in front of the chopping block, and yanked his hood off. Messy black hair, about chin-length, was revealed, along with a striking lightning-bolt shaped scar on the boy's forehead.

"This man has been brought here today to be executed for the use of sorcery and magics, treason of one of the highest calibres. I set him here as an example for all of those who dare to defy me by use of sorcery. Let it be known that magics and sorcery are not permitted in my kingdom, for the act of it is evil as is it's intent." The king raised his hand, preparing for the final action, until a voice rung out across the yard.

"I am dreadfully sorry, but you may not be able to kill me with something as feeble as an axe," the boy said, his voice low and melancholic, as if a man's instead. "Unfortunately, I've a curse; Death herself is not willing to take me for it is my destiny to remain."

Merlin's breath hitched at the word 'destiny', but he doubted that Arthur, who stood in front of him, noticed. King Uther let out a scoff. "Death herself, you say? Nonsense. You are any other mortal man, and you should be killed for your crimes of using your dark magic."

Surprisingly, the boy chuckled, eyes peering upwards, towards the monarch. "I apologise greatly, your Highness, but it is true. Try all you might, I will return - believe me, I've tried it myself before, and yet Lady Death never comes to harvest. She only sends her hound, the Grim, to follow in my footsteps and remind me that my soul may only be taken once this awful curse is over."

There was a pause, in which no one spoke, but the boy started again. "I have lived a great many years, and know more about life than any mortal soul, but Death's Realm forever remains a stranger to me. I do little dark magic, for its harms can be great, and I would not willingly harm someone unless they had already begun to do so to me.

"I have killed with magic, yes, but I have only killed Evil. I have only killed those who wish to burn this world and it's people to ashes, those who have killed out of hate or jealousy in defilement of the natural order of all things. I have only -"

"SILENCE!" The King roared, sending the boy to a halt. "Your tricks mean nothing! If you survive this - and you shall not! - I will personally assure that you that harm will not come of you in Camelot again!" The citizens seemed completely shocked, a few loud gasps even being heard. "But this is only if you bring Lady Death herself to testify! If you do so, perhaps you may even call home to a room in my castle; though such will not be! Only a madman would think of a tale so preposterous!"

The boy smirked. "I accept your conditions," he said, rather loudly, and with a signal the axe was brought down with a loud ' _thunk'_.

His head rolled off, but only to just in front of the chopping block. There were gasps from around the crowd - even a few sobs, but most everything remained solemn - save for the victorious smirk on Uther Pendragon's face. But, suddenly, the boy's body began to glow. It was dull at first, barely noticeable, before it flared, pulsing a bright, scarlet red. People had to turn their heads away from the brightness, the visage almost burning their eyes, before suddenly the boy was standing again. His head was back in place, and he wore a triumphant smile.

A woman was hovering in the air in front of King Uther.

Black robes shrouded a nearly skeletal figure, ethereal and billowing in an absent wind. Dull, lifeless eyes of a deep scarlet gazed down upon the King of Camelot. Guards reached for their swords, but suddenly found themselves stilled.

"King Uther Pendragon," she began, her voice unnaturally quiet, but booming throughout the city. "Despite my dislike of him, this wizard is needed here. Of all things, requesting _my_ presence? I have better things to do with my time _Sire,_ so let me say this once, and once only:

"You will keep your word to my Master, and you will never harm him again. If I find out that you have even _laid a finger on him_ , I will not just be furious - your life will be forfeit."

With that, the woman disappeared with a flash of red light and great plumes of white smoke.

People stared in great shock and disbelief, their glances shifting from where the woman once was to the boy, who was now smirking. Most importantly, King Uther stood dumbstruck.

"W-what is your name, sorcerer…?" The King croaked out, as soon as he had mostly collected himself.

"Lord Harry Potter-Black, your highness," the boy replied with a quirk of his lips, cleaning the blood off of his cloak with the wave of a hand. "Head of the most ancient and honourable houses of Potter and Black, and perhaps a few more, and the very official Master of Death. Oh, and I really do prefer the term 'wizard' - sounds a bit happier, doesn't it?"

 **Hello! This is my first post on fanfiction, but you can find me on archive at the same username.**

 **This is unbeta'd, but if you'd like to be my beta, that's open!**


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